Darksoul (10 page)

I stopped. “Played along?”

He waited for me to connect the dots. It took me a second. Only a second.

“Are you—” You’ve got to be kidding me. “Are you serious?”

He said nothing.

“What the hell were you thinking?
” I demanded. “Why the hell would you—”

“I was just giving you a hand.”

“Giving me a—”

And then
I realized. Giving me a hand. When it came to Ash. To—holy shit, to make him
jealous
—
Somebody stop me before I flip a table. “You thought that would work? You honestly thought that would work?” I took an incensed step back. “No. The worst
part is that, barely knowing me, you felt the need to do such a thing. Do I look that damn desperate? Do I look like the type of girl who would go to such lengths to get a guy? Damn it, Slade, we were doing so well! We even got to a first-name basis, and you—”

“So what you’re saying is that you’re going to sit there and act like an ungrateful brat.”

“I have nothing to thank you for! God, I don’t know if I want to punch you, slap you, or kick you in your damned pansy balls—”

He took out a cigarette from his back pocket and put it between his lips. “Three.”

“That wasn’t funny! I thought you were going to do something!”

He ducked his head to light up. “Two.”

“Like, seriously, you scared me! I’m going to fucking sue you—”

The next word came out in a wispy trail of smoke. “One.”

Down the hall, a door slammed open.

A shirtless Ash slipped out and
shut the door behind him, taking out his phone and looking at the time. He closed his eyes. Massaged the bridge of his nose. Then he tucked his cell back into his pocket, letting out a sigh. Just as he turned to make his way down the hall, he caught sight of us, giving an imperceptible pause before coming this way.

An easy half-smile tilted up the side of his mouth. “I thought you guys were getting it on? Hunter? Zel?”

I wanted to beat my head against the wall. Before I could turn and get the hell out of here, Hunter flung a lazy arm around my neck, bringing me close to his chiseled chest. I tried to push him away, but he tightened his hold, keeping me in place.

“No,” said Hunter, letting out
another stream of smoke and nodding at the bedroom door. “You left the girl alone, Asher? Why”—and he blinked once, all innocence—“would you ever do such a thing?”

“Ah, see—” Ash laughed and scratched the back o
f his head. “I was worried that you guys didn’t have a condom, and—um—”

“This is ridiculous,” I
said, shoving Hunter’s arm off me. “Ash, I’ve known the fucker for three days. You really think I would’ve done anything with him? We’d been—” I looked at Hunter, who met my eyes with amused gray orbs, before sucking in a breath. Pretending. We’d been pretending. “He’d been—joking around. Training me,” I said in a sudden burst of inspiration.

“Training
you,” Hunter and Ash echoed. As though he’d done it a thousand times before, Hunter took a drag of his cigarette before holding it out to Ash, who grabbed it and brought it to his lips. He took a drag, handed it back. They both blew out the smoke at the same time.

“That’s right,” I said. “He was nice
enough to pretend that he wanted to, um, take advantage of me, so I could learn how to fend off guys when they try to—to do stuff to me.” What the hell was I saying? “Because—you know—there are tons of guys. Trying to do stuff to me.”

“Ah,” they murmured. At the same time.

“So—Ash?” I waved him away. “Don’t worry about any—ah—condoms. Right. Yeah. Hunter, let’s talk.”

I grabbed Hunter’s arm and
dragged him down the hall, tugging him around the corner. After giving him a pointed look and holding a finger to my lips, I slid up the wall and glanced at the spot where we had been, blinking when I saw that Ash wasn’t there. He must’ve gone back to Bumblebee girl. I suppressed a stab of jealousy. Barely succeeded at it.

“Okay,” I said, turning
toward Hunter, “promise me—”

I cut off.
Ash stood beside him, holding their shared cigarette and taking a drag.

“Ash?” My voice was tight. How the hell had he gotten here so quickly? “I thought I told you to go back to your girl?”

“Nicotine,” he said, regarding me through hooded eyes. “It calls to me.”

“Then take the damn cigarette.” I went over and got behind him, pushing against his bare back. I tried not to stare at his tattoo. “Go away. Go now.”

“So eager to get rid of me.”

“Yeah, well, you’re annoying and you need to put on a damn shirt. Go on. Go now.” I gave him a final push, shoving him around the corner, and turned back
toward Hunter. I took a good look around before edging closer and curling an index finger at him. He leaned down. I kept beckoning him until I felt he was close enough to hear me over the pounding music.

“Okay, promise me, promise me,
promise
me you won’t tell him,” I said, clapping my hands together as if in prayer. “Please.”

“Tell him what?”

“That I…”
Like him,
I mouthed.

Hunter looked amused. “Ah.”

“Listen, thanks for trying. With the jealousy-sex stunt thing. But Ash is—he doesn’t—” I cut off and tried to get myself together. “Don’t worry about it. Okay?”

He said nothing.

“My problem. Not yours. Okay?”

Nothing.

“I just realized you were trying to be nice, however sick and twisted that was.” I reached up and clamped a hand on his shoulder. “Plus twenty points.”

He straightened
. “So that puts me at…?”

“Negative ten.”

“Negative ten,” he echoed.

“You scared the shit out of me when you threw me on the bed and pretended you wanted to do me. Minus fifty points.” I
backed away. “Keep going. You might get to plus one thousand.”

“One thousand? Is that my goal?”

“Correct.”

“Are you trying to fucking kill me?”

I looked him up and down. “Nice stomach,” I said, and smiled. “Plus fifteen points.”

“That puts me at five.”

“Wow. Terrific math skills you’ve got there.” I was at the corner now, and I lifted my hand in a slight wave. “See you on Monday.”

“Sounds like you think we’re friends.”

I flipped him off and turned to walk away without looking back.

Chapter
10

For the next two weeks,
Hunter and I met up after school so I could draw his, eh…likeness to the best of my abilities. Every day, he sat on a stool and I fixed a floodlight on him, wanting to get the best lighting possible. My sketches were, to put it in mild terms, a mess. So I almost always walked away with nothing done.

On the Friday that marked the end of the two-week nightmare, I
flung down my charcoal stick and crushed it under my shoe. “Screw this,” I said, wanting to throw the easel across the room. Io sat on my shoulder, unnoticed by Hunter so far, and she stroked a paw against my jawline. “Screw this. I’ll go minimalist and draw your nose. That’s all I’m going to draw. Your damn nose.”

The warm lighting brought out the hazel flecks in his eyes—eyes that right now twinkled with amusement. “My nose.”

“It’s a nice nose, so shut up.” I flipped to the next page and took out my pencil. “Ha. I just have to focus on the holes. Make them nice and dark—no.” I erased it. “I’ll draw your mouth. It’s a nice pink mouth. Bam. All I have to focus on is the color. And the bow at the top. And…”

I ran an anxious finger along my bottom lip, looking from
him to my paper and back.

“This is terrible,” I said at last, slumping in my stool.

“Not going to disagree.”

“
And you’re supportive as always, Slade.”

He grabbed his sketchbook from
the table and eased it open, glancing up at me before starting to draw. He really was left-handed, like Ash.

“Oh, no,” I said. “Don’t come with your awesomeness incorporated and shove it in my face. I feel bad enough about my art skills as it is, and you—”

He continued drawing, lashes downturned. Ignoring me.

I tried not to break my pencil in half.

He and I had fallen into a…sort of…tentative friendship. Sometimes he pissed me off and I wanted to shove him off a cliff. Like right now. Sometimes he was cool and I caught a glimpse of his dimples, which made me want to poke his cheeks. Also—and I hated to admit it—animals really, reeeally had a thing for him. He didn’t look at them. Didn’t even try. But still they came running, and when we were outside, you could bet there’d be three kitties, five birds, and forty puppies begging for his attention.

Io liked him
as much as they did and would flutter up and down his tattooed arms, as though memorizing the ink on his skin. He didn’t notice.

Either that, or he was ignoring it.

It was around him, after all, that I first saw her. And he’d seemed to know she was playing around me then. Hadn’t he looked amused? Like he was secretly having a ball?

Huh.
I watched him draw, my pencil hesitating against the pad before I dropped it altogether. With his face lowered and blondish hair falling over his eyes, he looked like a vengeful angel looking down at an abandoned city. It wasn’t hard to imagine wings sprouting from his back.

Holy shit.

It wasn’t hard at all.

Before I could freak out, Io fluttered off my shoulder and
plopped down on his hair. I didn’t bother to stop her. She leaned over to look at what he was drawing, eyes wide with curiosity. Then she grinned, patting her paws together as if she were clapping.

The side of Hunter’s lips tilted up
. “Mm-hm,” he murmured.

“What was that?” I said, watching him more closely. He knew Io was there. H
e must have.

“Wha
t was what?”

“You said something.”

“Plain face.”

“What?”

“I’m just saying to myself that you have quite the plain face. It’s getting abysmally boring to draw.”

Urge to shove him off a cliff: rising. “Listen, you said so to me the first time
we talked,” I said, clenching my teeth. “No need to repeat it.”

He didn’t bother to respond. Done with his masterpiece, he
rose to his feet and came over. He handed me the sketchbook and, grudgingly, I took it.

My face stared back at me, perfectly drawn—down to the freckles on
my nose. He even got my unkempt bangs right, and the ponytail I always wore looked as wavy and messy as it did in real life. Despite the state of my hair, my lashes were long, my eyes sparkled with laughter and my lips looked lush and full. It looked nice. I looked nice.

“You’ve
gotta admit it, Slade,” I said, setting down the drawing on the table. “I’m gorgeous.”

He came up behind me, and
Io fluttered from his head to my head instead. “And delusional.”

Ha. “You say that, but you
suuure draw me pretty.”

“I might’ve done a couple of enhancements here and there.”

Ugh, ugh, ugh— “Shut your mouth and help me draw your impossibly hard-to-draw face.”

“Only if you’re nice to me.” But he moved to help,
anyway, tugging his sketchbook closer to us. His chest pressed against the back of my head. Before I could demand that he give me some space, he said, “Look at my drawing for a moment.”

“I’m looking.”

He tapped the page. “Would you say that resembles you?”

My voice was a grudging grumble. “You know it does. You’re freaking Monet incarnate.”

“I think it looks like you, too. Now…” He grabbed my hand and guided my index finger over the shape of my lids. His lips came dangerously close to my ear. “Do you feel that?”

“I’m feeling something,” I muttered.

“When you look at me, I want you to focus on my mouth.”

“What?”

“I want you to focus on my eyes,” he said. “The curve of the bottom lid is the most important part, particularly at the corners. Also—”

“
Fuck that. Just…fuck this.” Gazing down at his flawless rendition of my face, I muttered, “I’m never going to get it. I think I should do something else. Draw—I don’t know—the hole in an ass to embody your personality. Sounds damn accurate.”

I
expected him to have a comeback for that one, but he said nothing. It was then that I realized how close he was. How the back of my legs were flush with his. How the length of his arm was pressed against mine, their edges dipping and rising together, as though they were fitted pieces. Too much closeness. Way too much closeness.

“I think I know why you and Ash get along so well,” I said at last.

“Mmm?” he murmured. He sounded a little out of it. Io fluttered over to our interlocked hands, fussing over them, blinking at them as though she wasn’t sure what they were. Then she grinned and, as always, patted her paws together. Unbelievable. Did she like what she saw?

“The two of you have no regards for a girl’s personal space,” I sai
d, yanking my hand away from his. “You’d better take a step back before I shove you off a mental cliff. I get it. You’ve seen my bra. Doesn’t mean you lay some sort of claim over me. Now step away, Slade, and do it quickly.”

He
braced his hands on the edge of the table, keeping me in between. “You’re acting as though you think I want to be this close to you.”

Dear Lord. I turned in the c
ircle of his arms and planted my palm against his black-clad chest, giving him a slight shove. He barely budged. “Okay,” I said, reining in all the patience I had. “If you don’t want to breathe the same air as me, then why don’t you do us both a favor—”

“You’re acting as though you think I like it, being this close. Cocky little mouse. I don’t. Not at all.”

Urge to shove him off a cliff: reaching optimum levels. “Look, why don’t we drop this—”

“I don’t like it. I’ll never like it. You’re just like a piece of cardboard. Kind of flat. Kind of bendable. Kind of breakable.”

“Kind of shut the fuck up.”

But he wasn’t done. “I saw you half-naked, and you still couldn’t pay me to stick it between your legs.”

Suddenly, I lashed out and curled my hands around the sides of his head, bringing his face to the same level as mine. His hair was silky under my fingertips. “Slade, look at me,” I said, staring into his gray-hazel eyes. “Are you looking at me? Look at me for a second.”

“I always look at you.”

Whoa. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“Okay,” I said, and took a deep, calming breath. “Do I look like I want that thing you call a dick anywhere near my shit? Choose your answer carefully, or I might punch you in the face.”

“Violent little mouse, aren’t you?”

“Wrong answer. I’m going to give you another chance. Your dick? Yes or no?”

“I’m assuming no.”

“You’re assuming correctly. Now, listen. You’re a guy. I’m a girl. Is this correct?”

His
gaze flitted to my mouth. “Wrong question to ask at the moment.”

“Right. Okay. I’m a girl. You’re a guy
. Woo-hoo. Now, I want you to listen carefully. Okay?” Still looking straight into his eyes, I enunciated slowly, “Get. Over. It. Did you get that? Get. The hell. Over it. Not everything has to be about the head in between your legs. I’m not asking you to find me attractive. I’m not asking you to look at me like you would look at—God, I don’t know—”

“You?”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Weirdo. “Right. So.” I let go and pressed my hands against his chest, giving him a little push. This time, he stepped back, looking secretly amused. “Do us all a favor and forget I have boobs. Okay?”

His gaze dropped to the front of my sweater, twinkling a roguish gray. “Not that hard, since you don’t have any.”

“Ignore them, anyway.” This, through clenched teeth. The bastard was
really
trying me.

He blinked once. “Ignore what?”

I opened my mouth to call him every name under the sun, but realized that that was what he wanted.

“That’s a start,” I said instead. “Congratulations; you’ve passed. Now…” I nodded my head at his back pocket. “Can I see your box of cigarettes?”

That night, Mom came home earlier than usual, looking bright-eyed and excited and nervous. I was sitting on my bed, listening to my awesome cello music as I tried to sketch Hunter’s cancer machines. Two kitchen knives lay next to me. Mom knocked, and I shoved them under the pillow right before she came in.

“Honey, there’s someone I want you to meet,”
she said, bouncing on her toes while I languidly got to my feet. I’d been going at it with my sketchbook since I’d gotten home from school, but had made zero progress. As expected.

She
saw the
kill-me-now
look on my face. “You okay?”

“
Yeah,” I said, taking a second glance at her. Beads of sweat were pooled at her temples, and though her cheeks were flushed and lively, I couldn’t help but see a hint of dread in her eyes. “Are
you
okay?”

“Yeah, I’m…” She sounded out of breath. “I’m fine, baby. Don’t worry about it.”

Once we were downstairs, Mom grabbed my hand and led me to the living room, where a woman awaited us. She was dressed in work clothes. Curly auburn hair fell to her waist, and her eyes were outlined in liquid kohl. I’d put her at thirty-two, thirty-three. No more than that.

“Hazel, this is
Allie,” said Mom. The name was definitely familiar; I’d heard Mom talking to her on the phone countless times before. “Allie, this is…Hazel, my daughter.”

Allie’s red lips curved in a kind smile. “It’s so nice to finally meet you,” she said, bringing me in for a hug. Her voice was silky.
Womanly. She pulled back and, framing my face with her warm hands, landed two soft kisses on my cheeks. “Oh, Soph, she’s lovely.”

Not knowing what else I could do, I said, “I, uh…thanks?”

She seemed to find this amusing. Mom tucked her dark brown hair behind her ears, looking, I thought, a little shy. And then Allie’s laughter died out. The mood shifted. Grew more…heavy.

“Well, I…” Scratching the back of my hea
d, I took a step away. “It was really nice to meet you, Allie. Good that my mom has someone to keep her entertained. I, uh, have a project…”